Rainy Day in Booty Bay
by She-Ninja
Summary: The rain one day in Booty Bay... oneshot. Troll, orc, and blood elf's thoughts on a dark and wet night. Didnt know how to catagorize, is slightly a prologue.


_Hello all. I'm sure none of you were wondering where I was, but even so, I feel I must give some lame excuse for my absence._

_Yea….uhm…I felt not-creative…_

_AhEM!! So I sat down and played a bit of WoW today with my dad (who is now a total of 12 levels higher than me! GRRRAAAH!) and found that it was raining in boot bay._

_I had never seen such a thing before!_

_And strangely, it inspired me._

_Tell me what you think? Please?_

\---

The rain was a constant pour. Booty Bay didn't normally get a good, hard rain like this, in fact most of the goblins were grumbling about bad omens and what not. The water slid off of tarps that covered stands of produce, pattered and bounced from roof tops, dripped from the many ropes that hung overhead. It was a dull pattern that could easily be ignored or admired. Nothing was spared by its sheets of wet. It was everywhere, leaking through things and sliding across others.

It also slid down his tusks. It soaked his clothes, sticking them to his body under his armor. His weapons were safe and dry in their holders, but his belongings were probably never going to be the same.

Blue eyes gazed up at the tormenting sky, at the swirling chaotic clouds that were unleashing this torrent of severe wetness. He absent mindedly rubbed his hand down his arm, sliding water from his soaked skin. His eyes drifted closed as water smoothed over his face, he felt it washing away weeks of dirt that he had yet to cleanse himself of.

Rain was something new to him. In the harsh barren lands of Durotar, where rain is an imaginary thing to children, even clouds are scarce. Nothing blocks skin from the sun; the ball of fire in the sky heats everything it touches, scathing even those in the shade. Throats were constantly dry. Skin cracked and sometimes bled. There is always a feel of urgency, of angst. Water is precious and scarce, as is livestock.

But here, in the wet jungles of Booty Bay, precipitation is nothing new. In the week that he had been exploring the jungles, water was in abundance. The air was damp. Despite its humid quality, it was hot and made him sweat almost as much as in Durotar. When the humidity reached the point where it felt like air was pouring into his lungs like soup, he rested in a cooled building, where the goblins had found a way to continuously fan the area.

In the current downpour, people were forced to shelter, making mad dashes across the planks of wood that made up the small streets. He sat in his corner, watching the people, resting. Somewhere nearby he could hear the goblin Scooty shouting something about the hard rain not being good for his precious machine. Jutak grunted in the background, hammering her weapons into boxes, closing shop for the weather. The Salty Sailor's Tavern was bustling with people wanting rooms, drinking ale, or just escaping the rain. A few fishermen, clinging to the last of the season, cheered and whooped from the edges of the dock. The Zandalarian Emissary was chanting under his breath, ignoring the superstitious goblins that looked to him for guidance on the omens.

His attention was jerked to the sky when thunder pealed. A few goblins wailed or screeched, diving for cover. The Emissary pressed his palms together and ended his chant. Wind howled through the bay, putting out the lanterns that glowed dimly.

Plunged into darkness, Koro'Zil, still in his covered corner, attempted to adjust his eyes to the dark. His senses tingled, his nerves, high strung, nearly snapped when lightening cracked, illuminating the small town for a few moments.

The bay, suddenly in nearly too bright light, seemed haunted. Few shapes moved among the walls of rain. The occasional footstep left a splash and alerted all nearby to the walkers presence. He felt calmed by the thought that no rogue would be sneaking up to him tonight.

For it was night. Were it not for the clouds, the moon would be lustrous and bright, giving near as much light as the great sun. Stars would be kept to the darkness of the Nether. People would mill about as if it were not night at all.

But, in the king of rains, all was dark. Heads were kept down, eyebrows drawn close on instinct to try to keep the liquid from tender eyes as people found cover for the night. Cloaks were held tight, hoods pulled lower. People were pulling all of themselves into the smallest space possible.

And in his corner, Koro'Zil watched all of this, eyes darting to every shape that passed, ears picking up any sound they could over the patter of rain.

---

He threw a stumbling human away from his area, muttering about drunken fools. Settling his forearms back on the bar, he grunted and settled his gaze on a barrel. Thoughts ran through his mind in a chaos until he shook his head and threw back a mug of ale. One of his burly hands wiped his mouth, careful for the short tusks. His gaze shot around the room, his eyes dark and dangerous to any who would approach him.

Dunkrojh grimaced at the sight of one of his orc friends. He was shaking slightly, hand straying to his belt where he kept a blade every time someone or something moved unexpectedly.

Glancing up and sighing, Dunkrojh placed a few coins on the bar for the ale, and moved to the jittering orc.

"Calm yourself." He growled. The other orc looked up at him, eyes wide in fear. "It is merely a storm, one that will have passed by day-break."

"I never liked storms…" The orc murmured. "They make unexpected moves, and they scare me. How are you so impassive, Dunkrojh?"

He pressed his lips together, eyes seeing something far off. "You see a few things, going around the world a few times…see things that make a storm look like a sneeze."

The other orc gulped and hunched lower in his seat, barely comforted at the more experienced warrior's words. Dunkrojh shook his head and moved to the door, glancing out into the storm.

He knew, somewhere out in that turmoil, his friend was residing, watching. He slightly worried, pondering why the troll would be lingering. The rain was hardly something new to him, having been through many storms similar, but for the troll perhaps rain was still a relief. Back in Durotar, while Dunkrojh was away, he knew there had been a drought. Perhaps Koro'Zil was still thinking back to the world he left behind?

Dunkrojh stepped to the crude railing of the walkway to the door, reaching a hand out to catch water that spilled from the roof, letting the liquid spill over his hand in a rush. Even under the water, his hand was still a rough green, standing out against the browns of the town. Sighing, he ran a hand through his Mohawks, making sure they were still spiked. Exhaustion was beginning to edge at him, making his thoughts more concerned with how much longer he should wait up rather than about his friends whereabouts.

Deciding the troll could take care of himself when it came to the elements, the warrior retreated to his room upstairs, mind set on settling under light covers and sleeping.

---

She leaned her head back, letting the water spill over her face and chest. Her hands reached up, combing through her hair, slicking it from her face and over her shoulders. Her eyes slid closed, she exhaled, relaxing under the water's pressure on her skin.

The idea of showering was extremely appealing to her. A week's worth of grim surely deserved to be washed off if the opportunity arises. And when the rain began to pound down on the bay, the sky darkening and thunder pounding, she retreated to her room, locked the door, and moved to the balcony, where a broken pipe spilled clear, warm water in copious amounts in a corner. With her bathing soaps in hand, along with a tattered towel, she silently stripped and had stepped under the spray with a sigh.

Perhaps she should give the idea of a shower to the goblins. The pounding was much like a massage, relieving stress. Her hands rubbed the dirt and grim from her body slowly, massaging sore muscles and easing the pains of the road.

Hands shaking slightly, she ran her slender fingers over the new scar on her shoulder. It was light and small, a miracle for the wound it was from. Her eyes slowly opened, staring at nothing, seeing things far away.

A light purring brought her from her reverie, reverberating through her spine as if she herself had made the contented sound. Brightly light green orbs settled on the feline that emerged from seemingly the shadows, eyes bright, tongue running over its lips, long fangs ivory in the darkness. Its muscles flexed under tough skin and short fur, its grace unmatched as it stalked her for a moment, looking her naked body over.

Deciding on an action, it stayed in the room, eyeing the spray of water with distaste.

"That's right; you stay in the room where it is dry." She giggled. The cat flicked its tail lazily, settling its head on its paws and letting eyelids slid over blue eyes.

Shaking her head at her cat's silliness, the Blood Elf returned to her shower, finishing up before her thoughts could drift again.

"Selestia, you are a fool." She murmured, and shook her head. "Stop brewing over the past. It is called such for a reason; it is times that have passed, people who have passed, and situations that have passed."

The cat yawned an agreement, rising to bring its master her towel before returning to the room and bouncing onto the bed, settling down and snoozing again.

Selestia toweled off as much as she could before moving to the room and pulling on light clothes. Her should pulled when she reached for her shirt, and she winced. Caught off guard, tears threatened to spill over her eyes. She shook them away, knowing they were not for the physical pain, but for the mental.

"Perhaps in sleep, I may find my comfort…"

She slowly moved to the bed, sliding under the covers to find her cat already there, purring lightly.

"You had better not snore, Alzaybia."

The animal replied indignantly that no cat ever snored.

---/

_Right! So! More? It was a spur of the moment kinda deal…no plot really…well, I mean there is plot, but I didn't know if it would be a waste of my time to post any more…_

_Basically, is anyone intrigued? Because golly gee, that would just tickle me pink, ya'know?_

_Heh, I got the shower scene idea when I got to take a shower in one of those thingies where its like a rain shower head and it comes from straight above…those things are cool…_

_Oh right! Disclaimer! Because we all know that Blizzard owns Warcraft ideas and designs…I just made up names and some plot-ly-ness…because that's a real word and everything…_


End file.
